by Sam Rook
The half moons were just rising when he approached the middle of the dark and empty town square; the only sound that of the large fountain at its center. The rectangular fountain cradled the large statue standing in its middle upon a flat, upraised mound of black memory stone. The statue itself made of white memory stone mirrored Lady Kathryn.
She stood with her wings slightly upraised, her sword point-down on the black rock, and her hands resting upon the pommel. Her detailed white armor revealed a slight dent upon her shoulder received before the Final Battle, courtesy of Sir Hal’s hand-to-hand ability. The most shocking part of the statue, her helmet less head, bowed in sorrow with her eyes partially closed. Her face held such loss and sadness, but the stubborn set of her jaw revealed her determination to continue the fight.
The townsfolk saw her as a person without her helmet, not the faceless strangers the knights had come to represent. She’d already had a reputation for being polite to peasants and servants alike. The fact that she ended the Daemon War with her sacrifice made her practically immortal in the minds of Av’lor.
Upon completion of the statue, most of the Knighthood chose to go helmet less when not on duty. The decision transformed the people of Av’lor who now treated them with fondness and not just respect for armed and armored knights. Personal relationships grew among the Knighthood as the knights relaxed more, knowing the facial expressions and emotions of their colleagues. A change Lanclor never thought he would embrace, but truly appreciated as the wind blew through his hair.
He drew his sword as he approached, stopping directly in front of her with the water twinkling in the moonlight. Placing his sword point-down, he knelt before the Hero of the Last Battle. In a low voice, he explained his worries of this awful day and the days following her disappearance.
"It’s difficult to think of all that you sacrificed to bring peace to Av’lor. What was the cost? How are you repaid? The corruption of the Council is spreading to the militia. Sometimes, looking around at the peace you’ve bought for us, I feel only sadness. Sometimes the sheer cruelty of people can be unbearable. I don’t know how much longer I can go on as Knight-Commander. As the days move on, I feel as though I no longer make a difference. When I feel that way, I simply come here and I again have Hope."
He knelt there for quite a while in silence, listening to the sound of the water flowing around her. Knowing that he was the only one who had a reason to hope, he stood and made his way back to the castle, back to the workroom of the Knight-Commander. He hadn’t told anyone about their Joining.
Epilogue
Lanclor awoke with a start, disoriented and alone. Pain. Unbearable pain, but not his own. Agony engulfed her entire body then faded as she lost consciousness.
He jumped out of bed.
"Thal'salin sar." Calling his armor, he threw open the doors to his balcony and leapt off the edge. The cold night air filled his wings. With a quiet thump, he landed before the knight stables. Hurrying past the quiet stalls toward the end of the long line of knight horses, he smiled at Artemis' nose peeking over the stall door.
What's your hurry?
Lanclor grabbed her saddle and threw open the stall door. "I sense her, she’s alive."
Artemis whinnied and perked her ears forward. You should ready the healer before you leave. She may need it.
"Lak’oth ar’vat," he said aloud then concentrated on saddling Artemis while he Communicated with the only one he trusted to know she was alive. Master Vetera, I may need your assistance. There had been too many attempts on her life. Even after her disappearance, he sensed someone watching for her return.
Lanclor heard about people asking questions in the shadows of the taverns, money changing hands for any news about her. The whispers on the street said there were rewards for her, dead or alive. The vast majority of the world believed her a hero. All knew of her sacrifice to destroy the Daemon gate. Seven months of peace had followed, a rare treasure in the violent realm of Av’lor.
Master Vetera slowly responded. Sir Lanclor? What time is it?
Lanclor must have woken him from a sound sleep, something healers seldom experienced. I’m sorry to wake you Vetera, but I need you to go to my mother’s house immediately. Tell her I told you to meet me there. You may go there openly, but I will need you to figure out a way to smuggle my mother out of the house without anyone knowing. Lanclor led Artemis from the stable into the torch lit courtyard. I will need a safe place for her for a while. I need everyone to believe she’s sick and you’re caring for her. I trust only you, so please come alone. I will explain everything when I return shortly.
I understand Sir Lanclor. I know just the place your mother can stay in safety. Be safe, Sir Lanclor.
Be safe, Master Vetera. Lanclor mounted Artemis and they galloped toward the south gate. The militia barred the gates at night, even with the Daemon War over. Orcs were still a problem, but the militia allowed men and women to come and go as they pleased. If someone reported an orc attack, the militia opened the gates to admit the village below, a refuge against the horror. The gate guards saw his approach and opened the gate without a word. All knew the Knight-Commander had many duties and nobody questioned him being up at this late hour.
They made their way over the frozen mud, the full moons lighting their way through the sleeping village. Artemis trotted out the last guard gate as the village militia closed it behind them. The night animals were quiet. Something had silenced them and it made him nervous. He rode for a full mile before he sensed her in the woods beside him. Dismounting, he eyed the thicket beneath the trees. A mount would never make it through that wall of branches and brush.
Pulling his wings tight against his body, he trudged through the low snow bank lining the road and into the trees. Using his armored arms and legs to plow everything aside, branches scraped his breastplate and whipped against his helmet. He walked for some time before he came upon the clearing. Snow ringed the blackened brush and trees revealing the site of a small battle.
About 50 Daemons lay in a semi-circle around what remained of a wooden gate. The gate, a tumble of scarred black boards, still smoldered with a powerful fire spell. He waded through the Daemon corpses searching for some sign of her in the light of the full moons. The crunching of charred talons beneath his boots brought the smell of burnt flesh to his nose. Lanclor heard a flutter of wings to his left and paused. Drawing his sword, he scanned the clearing. The abrupt sound of an owl hooting calmed his nerves. He glanced down toward the corpses and frowned.
Everywhere he looked, rage or pain contorted the Daemon faces. He feared he wouldn’t find her in time and she would join their silent hell, sleeping amongst the creatures she had sacrificed herself to destroy. He continued on, ignoring the death around him. A shimmer of moonlight upon metal drew his attention closer to the gate.
Lanclor knelt, brushing away soot to reveal a sword, much used, with runes lining the blue steel of its blade. Close to the hilt, blackened armor enclosed a small hand. Lady Kathryn lay on her right side, her right arm extended toward her sword, her left held a severed Daemon hand against her chest. The Daemon hand held a large black stone lined with alien runes lit from within by an orange glow. Her once white armor, blackened with soot, showed several tears where a Daemon blade had ripped it open to strike the flesh below.
What were left of her wings were jagged bones and broken feathers. One was significantly longer than the other. Her chest rose with her shallow breath, the only sign that she yet clung to life. A line of blood trickled out of the mouth of her helmet.
"Mel'ati sel'anthia. A'lath ent'yart sel'anthia." Lanclor cast a physical shield and an invisibility spell around them, enclosing them in a bubble of protection against any approaching enemies.
"Mel'int ent'bel'ak." He bent to inspect her, assessing how many spells he would need to sustain her while he moved her to safety. Closing his eyes, he viewed her body in his mind's eye, clenching his jaw at the damage. Infected wounds lined her neck and back.
Pus just beneath the surface of her mutilated wings leaked onto the ground. Her fractured ribs made every breath a challenge, but the damage to her liver concerned him most.
She wouldn't survive long without help. He sensed her exhaustion, her magic most likely drained in her destruction of the gate. If he didn't do something fast, she wouldn’t survive another hour.
Looking down upon the Hero of the Last Battle, he knew what he had to do and placed his hand upon her shoulder. "Lak'oth lenk'enterun ent'me'ant lak'oth." He linked with her, giving her as much strength as he could without draining himself too much to reach the safety of the village.
There was a terrible risk in Linking with another, but he was willing to risk his life to see her to safety. Without her, the Daemons would have killed everyone and gained access to the portal to Earth. He retrieved her sword and scraped the drying blood off its blade with a cloth from his pouch, then placed it in her sheath.
"Thal'salin sar." He called a brown leather bag from his workroom and pulled the severed Daemon hand from her grip. Placing it in the bag, he wrinkled his nose at the smell and attached the bag to his belt.
Lanclor bent and gently picked her up, noting how light she felt in his arms as he rose to his feet. Her head leaning against his shoulder, he bent his legs and launched himself into the air with a vigorous beating of his wings. He could only maintain flight in his current state for a short time, but the amount of time it saved him by flying over the trees instead of walking through them could mean the difference between life and death for Lady Kathryn.
They landed upon Artemis' back, Lanclor's burden still unaware of the world around her. Artemis broke into a smooth, but brisk walk back toward the castle without any command from his legs. That mile seemed to stretch on for eternity as he felt Lady Kathryn lie motionless in his arms, the link keeping her fatal wounds at bay. He knew once Master Vetera started, Lanclor would need to sustain her with his strength while the healer treated the worst of her wounds.
For months, he had tortured himself with blame and self-pity, always thinking there was something else he could have done. As the knights around him accepted her death and wrote the histories, he alone knew that she hadn't perished. The Join spell made him aware of her existence, but he had no idea where she was or what she felt most of the time. He would occasionally feel an irrational fear in the back of his mind, but he had learned to dismiss this as separate from himself.
As the fifth month of her disappearance approached, he began to doubt his sanity. Hal and the other knights around him knew something bothered him, but he couldn't bring himself to tell anyone about their joining, fearing it had only occurred in his dreams and that Lady Kathryn was truly dead. He now knew the reason behind the Joining.
Lady Kathryn had known she would need him. She had asked his forgiveness for doing it, although he had believed she apologized for sacrificing herself. Until this moment, he hadn’t realized she asked forgiveness for her forcing him to endure the Joining—something he hadn’t realized until now had saved him. If he had believed that Lady Kathryn had perished in the Last Battle, he didn't think he would have remained in the Knighthood.
In truth, he did blame himself for everything she had endured. He had attacked the Daemons and failed to stop the thrust of the spear that had killed his charger, leaving him helpless beneath his horse's body. Lady Kathryn had warned him about the events, but he had done nothing to stop them.
They finally reached the gate of the village. He communicated to the Militia to open the gates, giving them the necessary password. The militia had encountered him using the invisibility spell before, so they did not question his command to close the gate once they were through. They went a short distance down the main road before turning north onto a narrow road in the residential area. He carefully dismounted in front of a high gate, opened it and led Artemis into the courtyard of his childhood, closing the well-oiled gate behind them.
As they walked through the courtyard, he felt the protection spells pass over him, allowing a son of this house to enter unchallenged. After he dismounted, Artemis headed toward the familiar stables as he headed for the entrance to the main hall, releasing his invisibility and physical shields with safety now around them.
The door opened with a quiet Master Vetera looking at him expectantly. Vetera hid his surprise and motioned him inside toward one of the spare bedrooms. Lanclor went down a short hall where he set Lady Kathryn on her side upon a freshly lined bed. He walked around the bed and stood behind her out of Master Vetera's way.
Without a word, the Master Healer leaned over the bed and placed his hand upon Lady Kathryn’s head. "Mel'int ent'bel'ak." He assessed her injuries and his eyes widened in surprise.
"Are you mad? She is close to death, yet you are still linked with her? You know the consequences of her death if you're still linked. We can’t afford to lose you."
"I know the risks. I...we...will not lose her again." Lanclor clenched his hands. "How bad is she? Do you think you can save her?"
"I don’t know. There are significant injuries, with some as old as six months. The older wounds have worn the body down enough where it is having trouble repairing itself. Prepare yourself. Once I start the healing, she’ll start drawing strength from you whether you will it or not."
Lanclor nodded to Vetera and clenched his fists.
"Lak'oth ent'me'unt." Vetera released the healing spell.
Lanclor felt her body instinctively draw strength from his. Dropping to his knees, he remained by Kathryn's side as Master Vetera worked his magic. Sweat rolled down Vetera's forehead, down his nose and dripped onto Kathryn's filthy shoulder, creating a circle of gray.
Lanclor struggled to remain upright. Vetera reached behind Kathryn and unclasped her breastplate. The armor separated around her wings and he eased it under her still form. Lanclor gasped at the red wound that stretched down her neck and across her back along the line of her severed wings. Her helmet hid the beginning of the wound. The smell of infection was far from subtle.
Her attempt to cauterize the injury left parts of the wound charred. Pus dripped from the ends of her wings onto the crisp sheets of the bed. Lanclor felt tears roll down his cheeks and fall onto his forearms, now gripping the side of the bed. What was left of the once-white padded shirt beneath her armor was yellow with sweat and spotted black with blood.
One spot continued to grow around a small slice to the left side of her back, just below her wing. Vetera's hand reached around and covered the slice. After a few minutes, his hand moved away and the spot no longer grew. The healer's hands inched along the infected wound running down her back. Lanclor saw the infection seep through his fingers as he moved them, leaving a wide pink scar behind.
The healer’s hands rose to her left wing from the base to the severed tip pushing pus streaked with red ahead of them. The mixture fell over the side of the bed onto the floor. As Lanclor stared at the puddle, another pool formed next to it with a lesser amount of blood. He clenched his jaw in an attempt not to vomit at the sour smell.
He sensed Vetera's hands move away and Lanclor’s eyes rose and stared at the horrific scar lining her smooth back. The infection prevented the wound from disappearing. She would bear the scars of her ordeal for the rest of her life. Lanclor had scars of his own and nothing could blemish Kathryn's beauty in his eyes, but he knew she would need time to get used to her visual imperfections.
Master Vetera rested his hands upon her head and bowed over her for what seemed like an eternity. The smell of blood and infection were now an afterthought as Lanclor’s arms trembled with the strain of holding himself up. He felt Lady Kathryn’s pull lessen and he leaned to the side, slumping over in exhaustion.
"She will live." Master Vetera uttered and placed his hand upon Lanclor's shoulder.
Lanclor sighed in relief before losing consciousness.
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From the author:
Thank you for reading HOPE! I'd love to hear your feedback, po
sitive or negative, via email at [email protected] or a review. Please visit my website, samrook.com, to learn more about characters and upcoming books.
